


Just One Question

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're gonna be cute and flirty you gotta own it.  You don’t wanna own it, stay home.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Question

“You don’t look happy.” Hotch sat down on the bar stool next to Emily.

She put on a fake smile, beautiful but in no way genuine, and took down the shot of Wild Turkey. Then she drank half of her Coors Light.

“What's the matter?”

“I'm fine, Hotch.”

“You're not fine. What's the matter?”

“I just want to chill out. I don’t want to think anymore.”

“Getting plastered probably isn’t the best idea.”

“I left my dad in Chevy Chase thanks.” She finished the beer and tapped on the bar. The bartender replaced it and put another shot down as well.

“OK, it’s not good when you don’t even have to speak.” He said.

The bartender shrugged, walking away with empty glasses.

“The team is worried about you.” Hotch went on.

“And they sent you to talk to me?” She looked at him.

She looked at him with her Emily face. At least that’s what he always called it. It was the 'are you fucking kidding me' face and she was an expert at it. Sometimes he loved to watch her give it to people who didn’t know what it was. He liked a lot of her faces; had come up with names for almost all of them. His personal favorite was the ‘mmm mmm mmm’ face. Emily reserved that for good food, good coffee, and surely something else that Aaron Hotchner shouldn’t even be thinking about right now.

“I pulled the shortest straw.” He tried to joke.

“Use it to have a drink.” Emily replied.

“I'm driving. C'mon, you tell me what's bothering you and I…”

“You'll what?”

“I’ll give you one free question.”

“What?” She was looking at him again, this time with her ‘bullshit!’ face.

“One free question…anything you want. And I will answer honestly. But first you have to tell me what's wrong?”

“I should get my question first.” She held up her shot glass, said something in a foreign language, and took it down. The beer followed.

“What did you just say?” Hotch asked.

“Fuck it.”

“In what language?”

“Ukrainian. I dated a Ukrainian guy once.”

“I can't say that I have.” He said.

“So, one free question?” she asked.

“Mmm hmm; anything you want. But you have to talk to me and you have to be truthful. Something is wrong.”

“My birthday is next week.” Emily said.

“I know, October 12, 197…”

“Hey, hey, hey, lower your voice.”

“I'm practically whispering. My mother always said growing older beats the alternative.”

“I'm sure your mother also told you that it’s not polite to broadcast a woman’s age. I don’t mind growing older.” She replied.

“So what has you down in the dumps?”

“I'm gonna be 36 years old. There's nothing wrong with that; it might be a good age. But everything is passing me by, Hotch.” Emily sighed, drinking more of her beer. “I tried to push it out of my mind but I can't. I'm about to be 36 years old, I'm single, no kids, no prospects, nothing.”

“You think you have nothing?” he asked.

“I have a cat. I have a cat that I don’t even think likes me and I still don’t even get to spend lonely nights at home being the cat lady. Instead I'm out there chasing psychopaths or drinking my sorrows away in some dive bar.”

“Sociopath is the accepted psychological term, Prentiss.”

That got a little smirk out of her. It was better than nothing. It might be hard for the average person to see that Emily wasn’t doing so well but no one on her team was the average person. Hotch didn’t know if her teammates had tried to talk to her first but she hadn't been very receptive to much lately. As usual, she was excellent out in the field, as two recent cases in Jackson and San Diego proved.

But when there were moments of quiet, Hotch would see the mask slip off and Prentiss would disappear. He was hoping to catch her before she fell down too hard. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to, a shoulder or an ear. He didn’t think he would be very good at that. Still here he was and she was talking…kind of.

“Fine, I'm chasing sociopaths. There has to be more to life than that.”

“I'm probably the wrong person to ask.”

“Then what are you even doing over here? Look, I'm fine, just feeling a little sorry for myself. Let me drown my sorrows in this lovely Wild Turkey and I’ll be as good as new tomorrow.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Well I don’t need you playing doctor with me.”

This time Hotch was the one who smiled. He was sure, almost sure, that she didn’t mean that the way it came out. With Emily Prentiss you never really knew. She liked playing the cheeky dame; it had probably saved her life a few times. But she never played that role with him.

With Hotch she was either Prentiss, BAU Agent of Steel or…no, she was always Prentiss. He saw her being Emily with the rest of the team but he didn’t get that side of her. It was probably his own fault. He built a wall up to her almost immediately and never bothered to take it down.

“I would think you'd like that a lot.” Hotch said. “Playing doctor.”

“Don’t flirt with me.” She replied, wearing her ‘fuck off’ face.

“Prentiss…Emily…I was…”

“I'm kidding, Hotch.” Emily’s face broke out in a grin. “You should see your face; it looks like I kicked you in the nuts. If you're gonna be cute and flirty you gotta own it. You don’t wanna own it, stay home.”

“I'm not entirely sure I even know what that means.”

She glanced at him as she pulled the thin, sterling silver cigarette case out of her jeans pocket. This was probably the last bar on the planet you could still smoke in. That was one of the reasons she loved it. Hotch pulled a lighter from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He was still in full Hotch armor. She leaned toward him and he lit the clove.

“I'm not fine, Hotch. I can't exactly articulate what's wrong but I can't get out of this funk either. I don’t want you guys to worry about me.”

“It’s too late for that.” he replied. “When you care about someone, you worry when they aren’t being themselves.”

“Do you even know what my being myself looks like?” Emily asked.

“I'm not sure.” Hotch answered honestly. “You show a lot of different faces to a lot of different people. It’s a defense mechanism.”

“You would know.” She mumbled.

“The strange beauty of you is that all of those faces are Emily Prentiss.”

She didn’t say anything, deeply inhaling the black cherry vanilla flavored poison. Finishing her beer, Emily knew she could have one more and then it would be time to call it a night. She quickly glanced back at the team. They were sitting in a circular booth, splitting their time between engaging each other and checking out her and Hotch.

“Can you tell me what would make you happy?” Hotch asked. “Right now, off the top of your head, just something that would bring a smile to your face.”

“What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“You need to explain yourself.” She said.

“It’s a question, Emily. I’d really like it if you answered it.”

“Hmm…” she tapped the bar and the bartender returned. “One more for the road.”

He nodded and was off. Then she looked at Hotch. He was looking at her as well, sipping his club soda with lime. She examined his eyes. Emily saw curiosity there but she also saw something else. Maybe it was fear, or possibly discomfort. She had no idea why she would scare him so much but it was a terrible idea to climb into Aaron Hotchner’s mind. Emily had enough terrible ideas in her life…she was done with them.

“I want to sing a song in the car. I used to do it all the time. It would boost my spirits after a long day or get me prepared for one I didn’t want to face. My stepmother, sister, and I take these trips and we sing all the time. Being in tune and on point doesn’t matter; we just let the songs fill us with joy.”

“What songs?” Hotch asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked at the shot and beer in front of her. The shot went down smoothly, so did a quarter of the beer. “The happier the better but as long as you're singing, you're happy.”

It was hard for Hotch to imagine her belting out a song in the car. Whenever he’d been beside her in a vehicle something serious was about to happen and singing didn’t seem very appropriate. He wondered what her singing voice was like. Was she a soprano or an alto? Could she even carry a tune?

“Can you sing?”

“I'm no Celine Dion but I do alright. My sister can't and that’s hysterical. That and bike riding; those are the two things I do better than Julia.” Emily looked at her watch. “I should probably just get out of here. I want a good night’s sleep and I plan to spend my weekend pretending I don’t work for the FBI. There's a nightstand waiting to put together and some shelves for my closet too.”

“I’ll drop you off.” he said.

“Its OK, I can get a cab Hotch.”

“I insist.”

“OK.” Emily nodded. “Let me go to the ladies room and then we can get out of here.”

She hopped off the bar stool and walked toward the restrooms. He went back to his team.

“Is she alright?” JJ asked.

“I honestly don’t know. She admits to just not feeling her best lately but I can't get anything more out of her. I refuse to beat her up.”

“Keep trying, Hotch.” Rossi said.

“Why can't you just believe she’s fine?” he asked.

“Because we know her.” Morgan replied. “I also know she wants to talk about it but something is stopping her.”

“What makes you think she’ll be more willing to open up to me than to any of you?”

“Your bond is stronger than you think.” Garcia said.

“I don’t think so.”

“I said it was stronger than _you_ think. Just don’t give up.”

Hotch crossed his arms. He felt like everyone in the room but him was privy to something and he had to figure it out. He didn’t like that feeling. At the same time he was worried about Emily. It wasn’t anything specific but lately she’d lost that luster.

He could see her going through the motions. Hotch knew how dangerous going through the motions could be. He was not going to let her slip away without even trying to find out why. Even if he had no idea how to ask, tell, or know.

“I'm just gonna head home you guys.” Emily came back to the table. “It’s been a long week and I'm ready to end it.”

“Are you alright?” Rossi asked. He didn’t think she would answer the question but thought he’d put it out there anyway.

“I'm just having a personal pity party. I'm thinking of putting all of my money on 36 and seeing if it hits.”

JJ smiled, catching the reference. She handed Emily her jean jacket wearing a sweet smile. Emily returned it.

“Call me on Sunday, Peaches.” Garcia said. “We’ll have coffee.”

“That sounds good. Goodnight, guys.”

“Goodnight, Em. Night, Hotch.”

Hotch said goodnight as well and then they walked out into the drizzly night. Rain wasn’t in the forecast; neither had an umbrella. Hotch apologized because he had to park nearly three blocks away. Emily didn’t seem to mind. She loved autumn, loved the rain, and seemed at least satisfied with her companion.

“Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Hotch nodded.

“No.” Emily shook her head. “I'm really craving a cheeseburger though.”

“I think I know just the place; if you want.”

“I want.” She looked at him.

Hotch smiled as he walked beside her down the streets of the nation’s capital.

***

“Hey, I get one question, don’t I?” Emily wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“Yes ma'am, one question answered truthfully.”

He reached onto her plate for one of her waffle fries. She also had a 1/3 pound barbecue cheddar burger. Emily kept it all down with a Coke. He had to admit that watching her eat amazed him. Emily was a shapely, svelte woman who ate like a frat boy.

He had no idea where it all went except down her throat. It was probably the four millionth thing he found fascinating about her. He’d taken her to the Georgetown Diner and that seemed to lift her spirits. It was one of her favorite places, which he knew.

They got her favorite booth, the back one by the window, and bopped their heads to 80s songs that took them both back to happier and sadder times. Hotch wished he could’ve gotten a picture of the look on her face when the server brought the cheeseburger to the table. He would have to do with committing it to memory for all time. This was one of the moments when never being able to forget things was good for him. He sipped his chocolate shake, wondering what she would ask.

Would it be about his childhood, the demise of his marriage, or his time in the FBI? Did she want to know his favorite song or his mother’s maiden name? Did she think he knew where Jason was or if Strauss was a natural blonde? Honestly there were a million and one questions she could ask.

All Hotch knew for sure was his answer had to be truthful. If he tried to fudge it, Emily would know. She was a profiler and a communications expert. He’d really set himself up for his one. Prentiss, one; Hotch, zero. He still didn’t really know what was bothering her.

“You could’ve ordered some fries, Hotch.”

“I know but I don’t mind sharing.”

Emily smirked, taking another bite of her burger. It was so good and was definitely making her feel better. She wished she could put a name on what was wrong so that she could fight it. But she was afraid to. She was afraid to have to think about it too much, analyze it; profile it.

She’d fought so hard to get where she was, to stay there, it wasn’t so simple to just leave it all behind. But the BAU wasn’t all Emily wanted. It surely wasn’t enough to satisfy a person. The work was tough but fulfilling. Still, when Emily lay alone in some non-descript hotel room or at home with her cat curled against her, she knew she had to have more.

She had to have a family. She wanted a couple of little rugrats running around calling her mommy. She wanted someone to hold her at night, who knew just the right spot to help her relax. She wanted breakfast in bed and couch cuddling. She wanted to not have to speak to be understood.

She wanted school lunches, t-ball, and ballet recitals. She wanted Sesame Street, Blue’s Clues, and weekends at the grandparents. She wanted family vacations and broken lamps. She wanted arguments, make ups, bath time, and bedtime. Was it even possible to have all that and the BAU too?

“Thank you.” Emily said.

“Huh?” Hotch came out of his thoughts. He didn’t want to miss the question when it was asked or have her think he was avoiding it. He was concentrating on it so hard, bracing himself, it turned out he wasn’t paying much attention at all.

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s one of my favorite places in the city and always makes feel good. I know you didn’t know that but I appreciate it.”

“I did know it.” Hotch replied.

“How?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “You might’ve told me once. Sometimes we do have random conversations…usually on the plane ride home. You’ve probably told me lots of little things.”

Emily’s mind raced to remember every conversation they ever had. She was usually really good at recall but with Hotch those kinds of things happened completely without her knowledge. Like tonight when he sat beside her on the bar stool. She hadn't seen it coming at all. It was hard to put everything away in a little box when you didn’t know what it was.

“Well I think you owe me then. I don’t know any little things about you.”

“You have one question coming.”

“That is so not gonna do it.” Emily replied.

“It will if you ask the right question.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you suck?”

“Oh yeah.” Hotch took another fry.

The server put the check on the table. They both put their hands on it at the same time. That caused a staring match that Emily eventually won. She pumped her fist in victory but Hotch took the check anyway.

“Aaron…”

“So paying for dinner is what it takes to get you to use my first name.”

She didn’t say anything else, just finished her burger. There was no point in fighting him…Hotch was a gentleman. He had also asked her so he should pay for it. When her plate was mostly empty, Emily was ready to go. They went to the register after she left a ten dollar tip on the table. Hotch paid the bill and then it was back out to his truck.

The rain was falling a little harder, steadier, as they walked down the block. He opened the door for her and then went around to the driver’s seat. Starting the car, Blondie came out of the speakers. It had been a long time since Emily heard Dreaming. A part of her wanted to belt it out but she liked the comfortable silence between them. It wasn’t often that they were so comfortable together.

“Are you going to ask a question?” Hotch asked, the windshield wipers going in front of him.

“Is there a time limit?” Emily countered his question with another.

“I don’t want to be caught off guard.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes as she looked out of her rain streaked window. Leave it to Hotch to put rules and asterisks on it. If she got out of the car without asking, the offer was as good as gone.

“One question, one question.” Emily quietly said the words to herself. “OK, I know.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you feel the same way about me as I feel about you?”

Hotch glanced at her for just a moment before focusing again on the road. He hadn't seen that coming. How had he not seen that coming? The woman had never been one to beat around the bush, why would she do it now?

She wasn’t going to waste an opportunity by not asking the one question she most wanted the answer to. Maybe he thought she didn’t want the answer because she wasn’t even thinking about the question. Or perhaps Hotch was just a little delusional. It was probably the latter.

“What?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“You said I could ask one question, Hotch, which you would answer truthfully. Do you feel the same way about me as I feel about you?”

“I would have to know how you feel about me to properly answer that question.”

“I'm willing to take your best educated guess.” Emily replied.

“Then the answer is probably yes.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I said one question.”

“Hotch!”

He had to laugh. It wasn’t that he wanted to frustrate her, but her frustration was adorable.

“What do you want me to say, Emily?” he asked.

“I just want the truth. Don’t I deserve it?”

“We can't…”

“We can't what? Live? Love? Grow? Are we going to let the BAU zap us dry until we all have nervous breakdowns, write goodbye letters, and disappear into the night like Gideon? There's more to life. What we do is important but it’s not everything.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

“Fine.”

Emily didn’t say anything else and the rest of the ride was silent. It was stupid of her to bring it up anyway. She should've just asked some generic question, gotten a pat answer, and left it alone. She had only herself to blame. Knowing he felt something for her but wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it was one of the more difficult things she’d have to live with.

Hotch turned the corner and pulled up in front of her building. He put on his blinkers, taking a deep breath.

“I'm not very good at this.” He said.

“What?”

“I care about you; I'm fond of you Emily.”

“Well I'm in love with you, Aaron. It’s my thing to deal with but…”

“How long have you felt that way?”

“None of your business.” She replied in a clipped tone.

“Well I think I knew when you wanted to take in Carrie Ortiz. I may have known something before that but I couldn’t think…there was enough going on in my head. Your compassion, Emily, your empathy, your strength, and your kindness motivate you. I know that it must have been rough growing up like you did but you're an amazing woman.

“You give so much of yourself when we’re on a case. I don’t know how you do it. You can be professional, strong, and yet open yourself to be a comfort to those who are victimized. It hasn’t turned you ugly, only made you stronger.”

“I do what I do for the victims. I don’t do it for the Unsubs.” She said. “I need to go inside; I'm tipsy and I'm tired.”

“I'm sorry I can't be…”

“Don’t, OK?” she shook her head. “I don’t need you to be anything but Aaron Hotchner. I just want to get to know you, all the parts of you. I don’t want to be pushed away or brushed aside anymore. If you can't do that, then you just can't do it. It is what it is. But we’re here, and the door is open, so say it. Tell me you can't do it. I won't fight you, but I also won't let you keep quiet anymore.”

Hotch sighed, nodding. She was right; the door was open. He wanted to slam it shut again and hide behind it but it was too late.

“I need to think, is that alright?”

“Its fine.” Emily replied.

“Is it really alright?”

“I'm not gonna do that either, Hotch. Mind games are for kids, and creeps. It’s alright.”

“I’ll call you.” He said.

“Sure.” she nodded, not really sure if he meant it or not. Something would have to be done but Emily wasn’t really sure what. “Goodnight, and thanks for the burger.”

“You're welcome. Get some rest.”

She gave him a little smile and got out of his truck. Hotch watched her run around the back and up onto the curb. He didn’t stop watching until she was inside the front door and he couldn’t see her anymore. Flipping off the radio, he checked the rearview mirror before venturing back into the Friday night traffic. He had no idea when he would call Emily and what he would say.

Some things didn’t need to be talked to death, you just knew them. There were also things that needed to be said, expressed, explained, and discussed. Right now Hotch wasn’t sure which was which. One thing he did know, and it was only one thing…he was free. He didn’t feel that tightening in his chest anymore, or that burden on his back.

He never thought he would tell her and he had. He had and the world was still spinning. Now he just had to figure out the next step. Loving Emily would be easy; he had no doubt about that.

Letting himself love Emily was an entirely different matter. She may have deserved more but Hotch could give her everything that he had. Maybe there was a chance he could make her just half as happy as he was sure she could make him. He knew they both deserved that.

***

  



End file.
